Getting to Know Your Temptress

Getting to Know Your Temptress by Malflic featuring the Chesty Blonde

With all the insanity and recording for kink week and finalizing the lay out for the updated malflic.com It’s been a while since I’ve posted and this little conversation is about two weeks over due. It is simply Malflic and the very sexy Chesty Blonde having a playful and harmless chat in a get to know session.

Ironically it is the first time that the two have recorded in the same room at the same time, well other than that video camera incident years ago. (just kidding don’t go looking for it on U tube)

As always the entire collection podcasts can be found at malflic.libsyn.com and is also listed in iTunes under podcasts and of course it’s free! (Not only am I easy but I’m also cheap)

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“Good morning my name is Jill…and I want you to.”

An off topic post about my day to day life but nothing sexual…it’s as close to PG as I’ll ever get.

So it’s dark out. How dark you ask? So dark that god damn moon hasn’t even begun to give way to the light of day, still dark enough to be called night even though soon it will be very early morning.

How early in the morning is it? Early enough that I moved past various security guards and national safety personnel who did their jobs without even a single word, syllable or grunt. It was early enough that I couldn’t feed my addictions, not even a little bit and the demons of countless sleepless nights were haunting me with all their might and I was on the edge of giving up the ghost and moving from a well dressed zombie to a member of the disheveled uncaring and hopeless living dead.

Walking down the freezing cold and dimly lit corridor, the question of how one ever gets to this point in anything, let alone day to day life occurs again. It nags like a fatal disease that hasn’t quite announced its horrific arrival yet. Lurking there waiting and ultimately squeezing out the last bit of hope from your very life.

Rounding the corner, breaking the threshold and heading into the brightly lit oblong chamber I make my way to the designating resting space, cursing profanely and audibly the brightness, every step, and my own very existence as I take my seat.

Then it begins, at a deafening volume breaking the tomb like silence that is the only blissful thing at that moment. GOOD MORNING MY NAME IS JILL” Jill continues to blither on other pleasantries. After a few second reprieve the voice is again breaking the silence I am cherishing with all my being despite the blinding light which I’ve muted out with dark shades and closed eyes. A seemingly frivolous effort considering that it is still only slightly less dark out.

Again good morning this is Jill and in a few moments…”

Jill is a bold face liar, how do I know this because there was no pardon from the blaring voice projecting her love of life and duties she continues on

“in the event of an emergency…” I pray that your voice is not the last one I hear. She continues on.

“in the event of a water landing” I’m dead no one survives those now please shut the fuck up.

She didn’t not announce We will be dimming the cabin lights” and so god is mocking me yet again. No instead of that announcement she introduces the rest of her accomplices yet again and a few minutes after leaving mother earth the soliloquy begins.

“due to the short duration of this flight” Jill has decided she in going to read me a list of each and every available beverage known to man and then highlight the ones she actually has by reading those selections again.

“the following are your snack options….and you have nothing available for purchase that resembles food quit lying to me again you dishonest person.

Normally I don’t hate the beginning of any day just because it is beginning today however I despise the fact that the day exists to begin with.

Ding “we have passed ten thousand feet and” I pray to God, the Devil, Buddha, Allah, three ex-girlfriends, my second grade teacher, and the witches of Eastwick begging each and every one them with impassioned and devoted pleas to just make her stop.

But no life hates me and sleep is not something I will get to partake in then

Squeak , Squeak, Bang…Jill physically assaults me with her shiny metal wheeled box like implement of torture…it was not physical contact that was welcome. I am contemplating both legal action and professional psychiatric help because of the distress it has caused me. Odds are though since I’m still relatively young my hand and arm should heal nicely with enough rest, unlike the old man’s toes who I believe her pleasant cheeriness and efficient motions may have physically severed from his body.

During the time that the aforementioned Jill was spilling her joy and cheer on other unsuspecting souls Captain Ahab indulged his long ago hidden dream of wanting to be both a weatherman while finally helping to feed my addition and a comedian. I despise him even more than Jill since his position of authority and very literal control over whether I live or die necessitated that I listen to him on some level…just incase.

“We will be arriving” escape, the sweet smell of freedom sits a mere 100 miles in the distance. Ahh fooled again by her deceit and lies…we are not near our destination

“If you’ve not arrived here before it is a 25-32 minute walk”

Who cares I have no intention of walking that far

“Should you chose not to walk on such a beautiful morning”

How long was that walk again. Hmm wonder if she factored in thing like dragging a recently dismembered body along with you?”

“We will be” hiding your body in a forward storage compartment. Seriously can anyone really love anything as much as she does.

“Hi this is Jill again.” No shit Sherlock

“It’s has been my pleasure spending my morning with you and I look forward to seeing all of you again” Jill I know your face and should I ever see you again I may opt to take a different flight for the sake of my own sanity…unless of course it’s in a dark alley…then it may be a far less pleasant alternative.

Hot Chicks, tube socks, WTF

There are some things in life I just don’t get.  Like why in the world the hooters girls wear those terrible little orange shorts.   Boy Shorts, hot pants, granny panties what ever would be better but the make shift running shorts don’t do anything for me.

 

 

Why a stripper gave my mammoth, itinerate, inebriated vulgar friend Pete cab fare to get home one night after he spent the entire night tipping other girls and insulting her. Some guys must just have that kind of appeal.  Or maybe some girls just like big muscle bound jerks, either way.

 

Why the waitress at a restaurant felt the need to explain her “Kiss my Taco” shirt to me if she wasn’t offering to let me do so.  Do I look that fucking stupid and straight laced that a total stranger unprovoked needed to explain the euphemism to me. I’ve seen a few and  heard the term before, no need to explain what you meant by kitty either honey but thanks for doing it I love when women I don’t know who are about to bring my dinner use the word pussy.

 

Why do birds sing, why do fools fall in love, etc. etc. etc. and a myriad of other insane things that probably don’t matter in the grand scheme.

 

So walking up sixth avenue not far from the ball field there’s brunette, white t shirt, nice rack, black shorts and tube socks standing on the corner.   Tube socks I asked?  She tries to hand me a paper and get me to hang a left and go to what ever it is she’s promoting.   

 

 I ask again about the socks, I’m baffled and on the edge of becoming dismayed.   Seriously what moron thought let’s take a really pretty girl put her on the street corner a few hours before game time and have her use her beauty to convince penis toting morons to come and drop their cash in vast amounts in my establishment.  Do you know what will really get them going?  Let’s put her in knee high tube socks with three stupid red stripes and all the other puds he pitched it to agreed.

 

Is everyone wearing tube socks?   I ask again.  She of course looks at me like I’m crazy and explains how hot everyone in the club is.  I could care less I’m still intrigued by the stupidity of the socks. She moves on to a pack of young Latinos who seem less concerned about her socks and interested in her boobs.  Which I might have cared moderately more about if I could get past why a stunning young lady was wear socks that reminded me of a grade school gym teacher.  They hang a left. I go straight and hit the book store a few blocks up. Shame is she was a very pretty girl, except for the tube socks.